Beneath Calm Waters
by lookaftersammy
Summary: Why do men keep disappearing from idyllic Higgins Lake? What's doing it? Will Dean and Sam figure it out before the threat turns on one of the dynamic duo? Featuring Limp!Sam and Protective!Angsty!Dean. Spoilers for Everyone Loves a Clown! Please R&R.
1. CoolTree Clearing

**Disclaimer:** -sigh-.. no.. I do NOT own Sam.. or Dean.. or Peanut M&M's.. all three are yummy though!!

**Author:** lookaftersammy

**Title:** Beneath Calm Waters

**Rating:** T - for minor (in my opinion) suggestive adult themes and some violence ((PLEASE HELP ME WITH THIS I'M NEW AND I SUCK AT RATING MY STORIES!!))

**Genre: **Supernatural/Angst

**Characters:** Limp!Sam and Protective!Dean

**Summary:** Why do men keep disappearing from idyllic Higgins Lake? What's doing it? Will Dean and Sam figure it out before the threat turns on one of the dynamic duo? Featuring Limp!Sam and Protective!Angsty!Dean. Please R&R.

**Authors Note:** Hey guys! This is my second ever Supernatural fan fiction and my first multi-chapter fan fiction! I'm not entirely sure how long it will go for, sorry! Any constructive criticism is welcome. And please I need help with the whole rating thing... I just don't know what is defined as 'minor suggestive adult themes' and 'some violence'. Also, I'm an Aussie and I've never been to America. Higgins Lake is a real place in Michigan but Cool-tree Clearing is just a place I made up, sorry. Anyway, enjoy!!

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**Beneath Calm Waters**

**Chapter 1 - Cool-Tree Clearing**

Bars... why was it _always_ bars? Sam sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face to ward off the sleep demons that flirted behind his eyes. What was it? Two in the morning? Sam's eyes perused down the laptop computer screen, scanning over newspaper article after newspaper article searching for a job. The raucous banter of the bar crowd played in the background of his mind as his ears filtered heated alcohol induced arguments and the slow, soft drawl of the working-ladies flirting with their next client. Over all of that was the yatter of Dean's favourite music - classic mullet rock. Cigarettes, alcohol and sweat assaulted his nose and the rough corner bench he sat on was hard after hours of use, but strangely this all felt normal. And, as usual, there was Dean, at the bar flirting mercilessly with the busty, blonde barmaid. Sam grinned and shook his shaggy head looking back at the luminous screen.

Luckily the motel was a short walk from the debaucherous bar and when it became clear that Dean wasn't planning on coming home that night Sam took off, chuckling. Yep.. that was Dean.. all suggestive grins and mischievous eyes that just said 'I'll take you all the way to the moon and back if you let me.'

When Dean stumbled into the motel room and plonked himself down on the bed without so much as a 'hi' Sam sniggered. "Big night?"

"You could say that.." was the muffled reply from the single mattress.

"Well.. while you were off stealing away that girl's innocence I found us a gig."

Dean laughed. "Man, she was anything but innocent. Mmm that blonde hair and oh those - "

"Dude! I don't want to hear anymore!"

"Right. Well maybe Sammy you just need to loosen up a bit.. come on when's the last time you got some?"

"Dean."

"Right, right, all I'm saying is - "

"Dean."

"Right. So what's this gig anyway?"

"Higgins Lake, Michigan. There's been twenty disappearances in the lake area in the past year."

"Well yeah, Sam.. it's a lake. So they drowned, how's that our problem?"

Sam gritted his teeth. "Well, there have also been numerous spirit sightings in the area, genius."

Dean sat up on the bed. "Fine, Michigan it is. Pack your stuff, I'm having a shower."

Inevitably they had driven through plenty of breath-taking places over the past year - they _had_ traversed pretty much every state and most numerous times after all.

"Shut your mouth, Sam," Dean said with a smirk as Sam stared out the window, not brooding, but marveling at the lush forest that surrounded them as they drew near to Higgins Lake.

"Oh come on Dean, not pull that macho crap on me, you've got to admit that this place is awesome."

Dean cricked his neck and re-adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "Yeah, it's not going to be so awesome when we find out that we've driven 500 miles for a ghost spirit sighting.. you see.. that was a pun 'cos ghost.. meaning fake.. get it? Ha.. urgh.."

"Dude..." Sam uttered shaking his head in dismay, "shut up."

"Yeah... you're right."

Sam watched as the foliage gradually thinned into a grassed gully and modest houses started to spring from the ground, first in ones or twos and then in small clusters. They pulled into their standard dingy motel and unpacked into their standard dingy room, plonking their stuff wearily on the two single beds.

"So... what first, Francis?" Dean asked, sighting down the barrel of a sawn-off to check for grit.

"Well... I checked for the journey itineraries of the people who went missing and eighteen of the twenty went through the same area of tracks, here near Cool-tree Clearing," he replied, showing Dean the place on the map. "So, I suppose that's our first stop."

"Yeah, well if it's a spirit or a ghost or something like that it'll probably come out at night... we _could_ camp out... but I fear that I'd just be exacerbating your boy-scout aspirations."

Sam scoffed. "Whatever. It could be fun."

"Yeah, so could sleeping in a bed."

"Dean..." and that's when Sammy turned on the little-brother charm; dimples, puppy-dog eyes, pleading voice, the whole nine yards.

"Fine! We'll camp out!" Dean exclaimed, throwing a pillow at the back of his little brother's head.

Sam yelped and sent it flying back, hitting Dean square in the face.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk."

Lugging a small arsenal of weapons and some dusty camping-gear in their trusty army-green duffel, Sam and Dean trecked out to Cool-tree Clearing. The evening was bright yet crisp - really quite idyllic. The birds called to each other, and the air had that fresh smell that came only from little trecked bushland. It was unusual in that for once the brothers weren't constantly snarking at each other. The only sound other than the cries of newly hatched chicks was Sam's soft humming and the sound of Dean crunching away at a bag of peanut m&ms.

The Clearing sprang for nowhere. First they were trecking quietly (through habit as much as training) through the scrub and then, all of a sudden, they found themselves blinded by the sun as the trees vanished as if a giant had trodden through the forest and left only a clearing in its tracks. Sam glanced at Dean and grinned when he saw that even the hardened macho-man's eyes were wide at the beauty of the scene. The soft grass rolled over a series of small knolls, making its way west to where the clear waters of the lake lapped gently away at a slim, sandy shore.

"Wow..." Sam breathed.

Whisking away the look of awe on his face Dean merely grunted. Sam shook his head wondering for the thousandth time why Dean felt it necessary to were a mask every waking second (and even most of the sleeping ones).

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Dean asked.

"I dunno... we'll wait for dark I suppose. We should set up camp," Sam murmured, moving into the clearing and down to the lake adjusting the duffel on his shoulder.

Dean followed. Sam dumped the duffel close to the shore's edge and started unloading the incredibly old tent that they had managed somehow to find in the pile of rubble that was the Impala's back seat. Dean looked disdainfully at the tent. "Uh.. Sammy? I'm gonna have a look around a bit before it gets dark. You'll be right with the tent?"

"Sure."

Dean trudged along the small beach. For a split second, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the glimmer of something moving in the water. A second glance proved uneventful and he dismissed it as a fish and yet as he was inspecting a gnarled old tree that stood by the waters edge he saw the flicker again. This time he kept his eyes on the tree and tried to articulate the source of the glimmer in his peripherals. For a split second he thought he saw the wisp of long, flowing hair and... what on earth?... two piercing green eyes. Startled he looked at the water and the image vanished.

"What the f...?"

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I know that this chapter is a little slow but please bear with me! I promise you it will get a lot more interesting! Please Review!! - It's what is going to keep this story going!


	2. Green Eyes, Brown Hair

**Disclaimer:** I wonder if people realise how much it hurts to write disclaimers... 'cos you are just like, '_NO _I _don't_ own them'... it makes me cry a little more on the inside every time... (I wonder if this counts as a disclaimer... if not, see chapter 1)

**Spoilers!!** Up to Everyone Loves a Clown.

**Authors Note:** I had no idea that this chapter was going to turn out like this. The Angsty!Dean wasn't planned but it just kinda happened and I love Angsty!Dean so it's staying. Hope you all enjoy!!

To everyone who reviewed: THANKYOU SO MUCH!! IT WAS SO AMAZING TO WAKE UP TO 11 REVIEWS!! It made me grin so much.. thanks.

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**Beneath Calm Waters**

**Chapter 2 - Green eyes, brown hair**

"... You saw _eyes_..."

"Yeah," Dean grimaced.

"... In the water..." Sam's face was bent in concentration as he held the match to the small bundle of twigs and leaves he had assembled whilst Dean was gone.

"Uh huh." He looked down at the curved hunting knife he was flicking in his fingers contemplating just how much Sam would hate him if he lodged it in his brother's smart-arse mouth.

"_Eyes_..." Sam's match guttered then blew out and he struck another, this time cupping it with his other hand.

"Yes Sam!! Eyes! Really not that hard to believe!" He looked up at Sam but by the expression on written on his face Sam was somewhere else, trying to piece together why there would be eyes in the lake. "And hair," Dean added.

"Eyes and hair..."

Honestly, Dean thought, if he says that one more time.. I'm going to kill him. On the bright side, at least now I know why he was never a boy scout, he thought as Sam's fourth match failed to produce more than a feeble wisp of smoke.

"I hate to say it but we could be dealing with some kind of sprite here. Nearly every culture has a legend about spirits occupying the natural landscape. Problem is, there are just so damn many of them. Hmm... water sprites..."

Dean sniggered... "Dude... are you telling me that some six inch high fairy is grabbing these guys, fully grown guys, and dragging them into the lake to play tea parties?"

"No Dean, not a fairy... a sprite."

"Oh well.. that makes all the difference," Dean muttered to himself. Six matches down.. half a box to go. "Dude, aren't boy-scouts meant to be able to light fires in one match?"

Sam grunted as the little cave he had constructed in the twigs collapsed on the match's tiny flame, smothering it.

"Oh for God's sake!" Dean stormed. He whirled around to his backpack, grabbing the lighter fluid from its depths. With quick, time-practiced efficiency he doused the twigs in fluid, lit a match and flicked it. Sam huffed as his carefully made bundle exploded into flames. "Jerk," he muttered.

Dean grinned. "What ever. So... what's for dinner, Francis?"

Evening slid into night as the sun set over the lake causing brilliant flames of light to shimmer and glint and reflect off its surface. An unusually bright half-moon rose in the clear sky and one by one the stars winked into view as if some cosmic deity was wandering around the matt sky flicking on strategically placed light switches.

"Beautiful night," Sam murmured as they lounged around the crackling fire, their bellies full of ever so slightly over cooked sausages and bread.

"Mmm..." Dean stared into the crackling coals marveling at their intense shades of orange, yellow and magenta. An unwanted memory burned behind his eyes.

_They had been lying just like this, bodies wrapped around the fire for warmth, staring into the ebbing coals. They were awaiting the full moon and the band of werewolves that would accompany it. But there was still two days until the full moon and he and his dad were spending some almost unheardof down-time. It was a year after Sammy had left for college. _

_"Dean?" _

_"Yeah, Dad." Dean looked across the fire into his fathers eyes. The smoldering coals reflected in their pupils._

_"I'm proud of you."_

_What?! Dean thought. Alarm bells started ringing in his ears and he found himself muttering 'Christo' underneath his breath. _

_John cleared his throat. "You're a good kid. You've always done everything I've asked of you. Always." Again he cleared his throat. "Your mother would be proud of you, son."_

_Dean looked down, surveying the twigs on the ground with suddenly blurry eyes. "Th...thanks, dad."_

Dean looked away from the memory playing on the backs of his eyelids and back into the fire with stinging eyes. And all of a sudden he couldn't help it. His jaw quaked. His throat burned like someone was dragging shards of glass down the sensitive flesh. Water welled up behind his long lashes and somewhere deep in his chest the ache that had been growing and growing since he had stared into the fire of John's burning body crept through the barriers he had thrown hastily up. It permeated everything, spilling into his arteries, pumping through his body with the help of his traitorous heart. In moments it had reached the very tips of his fingers and toes poisoning his flesh. The banks dropped and a small whimper escaped Dean's clenched lips.

The soft sound sent Sam's eyes flying to Dean's face. "Dean?" His big brother's eyes reflected a look of absolute anguish. "Dean!" Sam scrambled over to his brother as his head dropped into his hands. "Dean? Talk to me!" He hugged his big brother over the shoulders, his mind flying into a panic as he felt shudders wrack Dean's hard body.

"Geroff me, Sam."

"No." Sam squeezed his brother tighter rubbing circles on his back. "Dean..." he said quietly, "talk to me."

Sam's strong arms shouldn't have been as comforting as they were but Dean clung emotionally to the physical contact. It was something that had been so devoid in his childhood that Dean hadn't even realised how much he'd come to crave it. His macho exterior betrayed him. He _did _crave this brotherly affection, the expression of a bond that was somehow sacred. The embrace meant so many things. Care, warmth, that everything was going to be ok and above all that forbidden 'l' word - love. "I miss him so much," Dean whispered. The pain of his father's death was exploding through his body - it had toppled the damns and now was bursting the river's banks.

"I know, Dean. I miss him too," was Sam's quiet reply.

And he began to cry, the tears gushing down his face just like the pain was gushing through his head and his heart. He knew that Sam could feel it - his body was shaking with every sob - but somehow he didn't care. "Oh, Dean... it'll be alright." The soft circles on his back were oddly comforting, yet another example of that family bond that had been so disrupted when he was growing up.

Hours seemed to pass like that, with the two brothers drawing strength from each other, healing through the physical contact they had never known as kids. Yet, when finally they separated, the moon had moved only a little. "You ok?" Sam asked, looking into his brother's haunted eyes.

"Yeah," Dean replied gruffly, quickly wiping away the trails of salt on his cheeks while Sam, trying to be inconspicuous, looked away. "I um... I'm gonna go for a walk."

"Yeah... ok. I'll keep a look out for your fairy friends," Sam said, trying to lighten the mood. What a role reversal, he thought, chuckling quietly at the irony. He was horribly tempted to add a 'be careful' as he watched his brother trudge away into the darkness.

Sam settled himself once again next to the fire, looking out over Lake Higgins. The moon smiled down on the still water like they were old friends privy to some esoteric secret. A cool breeze sent gentle waves rippling over the surface, making Sam thankful for the heat of the fire. He snuggled further into his jacket, sighing. The beauty of his surrounds was largely lost to the concern that overwhelmed him. He had been waiting for this. Sure, Dean had been stoic enough at the cremation and as always when Sam even broached the subject Dean wouldn't even acknowledge that he was talking - either that or crack some crude joke which was worse; the jokes were forced, lame impersonations of Dean's usual witty snarks. The time driving between gigs was long and silent, the music louder, heavier, as if Dean were trying to drown out everything he had ever felt. Sam had no idea what was going through the older hunter's head. What was it? Guilt, shame, self-hate... fear? It wasn't just loss that was for sure.

The sound of splashing water interrupted Sam's thoughts. He snapped back into the real world and started to his feet as he saw a slim figure glide toward the shore, ripples traveling in its wake. His hand instantly reached for the sawn-off shotgun sitting on the fold out table. The figure became clearer now. It was a lady, her eyes green and piercing, her long hair thick, brown and plastered to the sides of her face. Her face was pale but for full ruby red lips and a rosy hew high on her cheek bones. His eyes drifted downwards to the thin white dress that clung to her slim waist and rounded hips, ending in uneven wisps that fluttered at the tops of her knees and lower to the soft, smooth, toned legs that emerged from the water as gracefully as a ballerina's. Sam couldn't help the, "Wow..." that escaped his lips. She was magnificent. "H... hi..." he called, his voice trembling slightly in awe. The lady slid her eyes meekly away. "Hello?"

"You aren't going to shoot me, are you?" Her voice was a soft honey whisper that seemed to carry through the fresh air swirling around his head and into his ears.

"Wah?" Sam looked dumbly down at the sawn-off in his hand and dropped it hastily. "No... no of course not."

_What are you doing, Sam? Pick it up!_ Some traitorous part of his mind seemed to say but it was a dim order, too far off in the distance and Sam was glad that it was.

"That's good," the lady said flicking her eyes back up to meet his.

Sam found himself unable to speak. Her eyes seemed to look straight through his, down into the deep, dark recessed of his mind. They held his hungry stare taunting him, teasing him. She moved forward, her bare feet skimming the cool grass, crushing it ever so slightly.

"What's your name?" she asked, her voice a smooth, honey drawl.

"S... Sam," was his stuttered reply.

She flickered and was suddenly right in front of him. Her long, pale fingers floated up to stroke the hair out of his eyes. They were cool on his fire-warmed skin, sending tingles through his body. Now he noticed her height, her face was close to his, so close he could feel the chill wafting off her skin. Slowly, seductively she leant in and gently kissed the corner of his mouth. "Come with me, Sam." She leaned over and kissed the other corner still holding his brown eyes with her own. "Won't you come with me?"

The ebbing light of the camp fire met Dean's eyes. They had quickly adjusted to the peaceful darkness as he had walked along one of the many paths leading away from the clearing and now they were stung by even the light of the dying embers. What had he been thinking? Letting his emotions get away like that? Come on, Dean, snap out of it. Emotions just cloud your judgment. They'll distract you and trick you and all of a sudden you'll find yourself flat on your back with a wendigo swiping at your chest. They'll just get in your way.

He took a deep breath of fresh bush air and made his way across the clearing to the firelight. His eyes scanned the campsite. No Sammy. Quietly he checked the tent. No Sammy. He felt his pulse quicken and his nerves thrill through his body. Calm, Dean calm... he's probably just gone to take a piss. That's when he saw the sawn-off lying abandoned in the dirt and his nerves no longer thrilled, they screeched. His eyes drifted to a set of small footprints, way too small to be Sammy's, and scratches in the dirt behind them. The prints and scratches made their way all the way from the fire, over the grass and down to the beach where they disappeared into the water. One thing was for sure: there were two people here, one walking and one being dragged behind...

"SAM!!" Dean screamed into the night. "SAMMY!!" He looked around desperately, his eyes darting frantically over the clearing for any other clues. His breath came in short, sharp gasps that made his head feel light and dizzy. Over it all was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on, some obscure emotion he hadn't felt in a long time - fear.

"Oh God..." Time seemed to still. The dark was no longer peaceful but was shown suddenly for what it really was - dangerous, menacing. And somewhere out there in the pitch was Sam.. Sam... his little brother.. his Sammy.

"Sam..." The whisper was desperate, pleading, edged with dread and with fear and somehow that forbidden word had cropped up as well. "No... ... no no no..."

"Sam!!!"

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Hope you liked it!! It was a blast to write! More Protective!Dean and definitely more Sam!Whumpage to come, I promise!! Please review, they fuel my muse!!


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